So, in the past few months, I’ve had two serious disagreements with two different friends. Close friends.

Of course I cried my eyes out both times.

I’m not very good at confronting an issue with another person. I usually get defensive and I always get emotional.

These disagreements were not connected or similar in any way, but they both share one thing in common. After each incident, after we’d made up and I’d dried my eyes and my sniffling had subsided, my friends both asked the same thing:

“Does this mean I’ll make it into your blog!?!”

And then, with tissue in hand, I started to laugh. And the tides turned. And all was right in the world again.

Is there any better feeling than resolving a conflict with a best friend and walking away feeling closer and stronger then ever?  This is not to say I argue with my friends often. And it is not to suggest my friends are picking fights with me just so I’ll cry and blog about it (at least I certainly hope not!!). But I guess I am starting to realize the merit in confronting issues (the important ones) in my relationships. I have some of THE best friends in the world. Ones I’ve known for more than half my life. And so I’m beginning to realize that these people will continue to love me through the disagreements and the tears. They will always listen to me. They will tell me when I’m wrong. They will accept my apologies and offer theirs.

Then, they’ll turn my tears into fits of laughter.

So, yes Brittny & Rori- I will mention you in my blog. But not because we had an argument and not because I cried, but because you love me like you do.   

The best laid plans

You know when you have the perfect something planned and all you do is look forward to it and build it up in your head? I had one of those today. It was a cold rainy day out so I made turkey meatballs and sauce for a warm yummy meal, Kim K’s Wedding Special Part II was on, I found one of my favorite wines on sale for $10.99, and Josh was working late. This left me with two uninterrupted hours of the perfect ‘me-time’ evening!

But then it all started falling apart.

It started when I spilled a can of tomatoes on my kitchen floor.

Then I go to open a box of spaghetti noodles, picked it up by the wrong end, and they all fell out of the bottom. I just know I’ll be finding dry spaghetti noodles in my kitchen for the next 6 weeks.

Of course, all this mess made me miss some of the wedding activities and now I had no idea why Kim & Kris were fighting three days before their wedding.

So I rushed to put the sauce on, rushed to boil the water for the noodles, and grabbed my wine so I could watch.

Then I stubbed my toe on our stupid coffee table.

Then I found a gnat in my wine.

Then I went to check on the noodles and realized I had turned the wrong burner on.

I made it through all of this without crying, but not without cussing.

I got the tomatoes & noodles cleaned up. I got the water boiling & the noodles cooked. I got the gnat out of my wine & my toe to stop throbbing. And then proceeded to bawl into my meatballs during the second half of Kim K’s special.

I mean, who really thought I’d make it through two hours of anything wedding without crying? Plus, there is a deceased father-of-the-bride involved. I was a goner from the start.  

P.S. I love Bruce Jenner. A lot.

P.P.S. Kim Kardashian is gorgeous even when she is a crying mess.

When my Grandma started losing her memory I came to terms with the fact that she would be a different person in some ways. In many ways, I guess. But I had convinced myself , that through all the issues we would face, she would never forget who I was. I just knew that I, and my brother and my parents and uncles and cousins, were all too important to her for her to forget who we were.

 Last weekend I found out that in many ways I was wrong. But in others I was right.

I didn’t let it bother me when my Grandma started forgetting my name. Both my grandparents have been calling me Katelyn for at least 20 years.  I’ve even gotten a few ‘Brad’s’ and ‘Kim’s’ as well. So no biggie if Grandma can’t remember what to call me. But when I came up for breakfast last Friday and kissed her good morning, I had to hold back tears when she asked me who I was and where I lived. It was like a kick in the gut when I told her I was Randy’s daughter and she asked me who Randy was. I didn’t know how I was going to cope.

 So, I did the only thing I knew to do and relied on humor and patience to get through the day. And we had a good time together. When Josh came up for breakfast she squealed like a little girl, grabbed his face with both hands, and said “You are just so handsome!” over and over. Then patted his belly and told him it looked like he had gained some weight and walked into the next room, leaving my husband with a pout on his face and me reassuring him through my laughter.

Since my Grandpa had to be at church every morning by 6 to start making apple butter, it was up to me to get Grandma & Josh fed and clothed and to the church. On Saturday my Grandma got a distressing phone call from the nursing home about my Aunt Lucille and it sent her all out of whack. She was very confused and upset and all she wanted was my Grandpa. I didn’t know what to do to calm her down. So I grabbed her sweater, made sure she brushed her teeth, and got her in the car. She was crying and rambling and not making much sense. When I stopped to make sure she was uckled up, she grabbed my hand, and said “Thank you for loving me. You are very special. You are very special to me.”

 And that is how I knew in some ways I had been right about her. She may not remember my name or where I live or how we are related, but she does remember that I love her. And that we are special to each other.  She may ask me each morning what I do for work and how long I plan on visiting, but she still told me she was so excited to have me there and she still cried the day I left for home. It is the sweetest relief to realize that the relationship we’ve built can survive a cruel disease that seems to take so much. She may have lost a lot of memories, but it seems the strongest ones have survived. The ones of love. I realize that as we all progress through this ordeal even the strongest of memories may fade. That one day the humor may fade too and it will be only patience and one another that we rely on, but if it’s the love that lasts the longest, I’ll be truly thankful. And I’ll do the remembering for her.

September 30th

I am writing this from my grandparent’s house in Missouri. It’s early. The sun is rising in the backyard and my husband is sleeping in what used to be my Uncle Todd’s room. The old wood-burning stove is to my left, brown shag carpet under my feet. There are six crates of toys on the floor; the same toys my dad, my uncles, my brother, my cousins, and now their babies, have played with. This place is filled with nothing but happy memories.

I have never brought anyone outside my family here before. It meant so much to me to bring Josh to this place, my home.

Of course I also have other homes. There is my home in Georgia, where I get my mail, cook dinners, and sleep each night. There is my home in Virginia, where my high school friends and adopted family and Metjes live. My home in Greenville, where the Billigs and Cooleys and Millers and Merritts live.  But my grandparent’s home is special. Not a thing has changed here in 30 (probably more like 50) years. Seriously, last night we found a Vick’s Vapor rub jar with an expiration date of 1977. Josh pointed out how old all this stuff was when he noticed that none of the medicines or cleaning supplies had directions in Spanish. And Grandma’s container of Comet is advertising a savings of a whopping SIX CENTS!! This house may look a little like one from HOARDERS, but to me it has been a constant place of love and happiness since the day I was born. This is where I hunted Easter eggs, pedaled around in the toy fire truck, made homemade ice cream, and learned how to play poker. I helped water Grandpa’s garden and snap string beans, practiced my layups, and performed talent shows. I opened up presents on Christmas morning, got a million chigger bites in the backyard, and played with my Grandma’s Avon samples without asking. I cannot think of one unhappy time in this house.

And this weekend I am making more memories. Josh will become a part of my home here in Missouri. The four of us are making apple butter together at church this morning. Josh is leaving early to golf with my cousins. I am going to try and talk Grandpa into hiring a housekeeper behind Grandma’s back.  And on Sunday we have our big family reunion. Among the old glass coke bottles and family pictures, candy jars and figurines, there is so much love to be found here.

And so much dust.